


X. Never Too Late / Wake Up [Mash Up] - Three Days Grace

by RubyFiamma



Series: March to the Beat of 8059 [6]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, POV Second Person, yamagoku - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Summary] Yamamoto contemplates his life's worth after his first kill. </p><p>(Second person POV)</p><p>[See previous works for prompt]</p>
            </blockquote>





	X. Never Too Late / Wake Up [Mash Up] - Three Days Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Not as gory as it sounds, just a slight mention of suicide in passing.
> 
> [See previous works for disclaimer]

**X. Never Too Late / Wake Up [Mash Up] - Three Days Grace**

* * *

_This world will never be what I expected... and if I don't belong... who would have guessed it?_

"You aren't cut out for this world," he spits. His green eyes glare intently. 

"I know," you say. "But still... I want to be here. For Tsuna, for my friends... for you." Why you categorize him separately, you're not sure. Probably because he was never your friend, in his opinion, and to you he's more than that.

"You're an idiot..."

You know this, but it doesn't change the way you feel. You're an idiot about a lot of things but at least you know how you feel, you're not lost like he is. You're confident in yourself and your decisions. "I know."

"You're weak and stupid and lack focus. You don't even have the heart to kill."

You laugh. "It's just a game right? Who would I have to kill? Haha."

"Fuck you," he grounds out and you watch him storm away, some sort of pang in your chest. You can't understand why he's so angry with you but something inside you wants to prove him wrong. Something inside you strives to be a better man... the man  _he_ wants you to be.

* * *

"This world will never be what you expected, you don't belong. Don't second guess it."

You laugh. He's always telling you that you don't belong here. "The kid doesn't think so."

"Maybe... but I do. You're too... you're too..." He lets out an exasperated sigh. "You can't even fight with the sharp edge of your sword. What the fuck do you hope to accomplish with that? This isn't a game, this universe isn't for the weak hearted. Sometimes you have to do the unthinkable, and you can't handle that."

He always puts you down and the insults were harsh at first but you've come to understand him a little. Behind his fortitude, behind that impregnable guard is genuine concern. At least this is what you tell yourself. It doesn't sting that much when you do.

You can almost confuse it with him actually caring about you, but you can't ever let yourself get used to that idea because if you did the feelings that held heavy in your heart like lead would become impossible to bear anymore. So you laugh it off like you do everything else only to further irritate him but at least he's back to insulting your intelligence instead of awkwardly lecturing about the path you've chosen.

But after a long silence, he stills and his eyes fall on you. There's something in them, and you're not sure what it is but you like it. That nameless emotion gives you just the tiniest sliver of hope, but it's good enough.

"I think... The tenth thinks it's a good idea. It's never too late."

You smile and cock your head quizzically. "Never too late for what, Gokudera?"

"Never too late to get outta the game. You can't handle it. This isn't baseball-"

"Have you ever killed someone?"

He bites his lip and scowls. He hates being interrupted but he also hates talking about himself, especially to you. However you know this time he'll tell you because it'll prove his point.

"Yes. I have."

"How many?"

"That isn't important," he says sharply, lighting a cigarette.

"I want to know," you say urgently, walking up behind him and encircling your arms around his small waist. "Tell me."

You think for a minute he'll scold you for the touch, the closeness, but no one is around and he's okay with that. There's no name for what you have and you're okay with that too. Anything to just be able to touch him, smell him... be with him. You've wanted to since the first time you met him. This gorgeous, enigmatic man has on more than one occasion sparked a fire within you that you've never gotten from anyone else and that sort of rush is addicting. Too addictive to quit. 

He blows smoke out in the form of bluish gray rings and leans into you, laying his head on your shoulder. "Over ten. I can't really remember."

"You can't remember... or you don't want to remember?"

He looks up at you angrily but lets out a sigh. "Both. It gets easier... especially when you have something to protect, like the tenth."

"Did you have something to protect the other times?"

"No... I was a free agent, did their dirty work because I was expendable... Are you expendable, Yamamoto?"

"I could be... if I had to be."

His eyes widened slightly and he whirls around, looking at you incredulously. "Why... why would you say that?"

You shrug. "If it was to protect you guys, I'd gladly give my life. That is my resolve."

"That isn't resolve. It's idiocy."

"Weren't you the same way? _Aren't_ you the same way?"

"That was before I had something to live for... don't you have something to live for, Yamamoto?"

This kind of conversation doesn't make you uncomfortable, but you can see the unpleasant shift in his gait as he walks toward the balcony to flick his cigarette over the railing. He doesn't open up like this, he doesn't call you by your name very often let alone two times in less than a minute. He doesn't let you touch him so freely and he doesn't ever react to you like this. He doesn't ever ask how you feel, what you want nor does he care. You can't exactly figure him out but he wants something from you and his unusual approach  _is_  starting to make you feel uncomfortable.

You think of your dad and your friends and the beautiful man in front of you and yes, they're all something to live for but the question is, would you continue living if they weren't there to live for?

* * *

_This world will never be what I expected, and if I don't belong who would have guessed it?_

Gokudera did.

You stare up at your ceiling until your eyes burn. You feel heavy and hollow but worse you feel thrilled. The ghost of the man you've killed haunts your dreams, haunts your wake and it keeps you from functioning. The memory of the kill is what's got the skin prickled up on your flesh, adrenaline coursing through your veins and your heart racing in your chest.

You're confused because you shouldn't feel like this. You don't know how you should feel but it's shameful to feel like this. It's not your resolve, it is truly idiocy because nothing could have prepared you for this feeling.

You are but an empty shell of a man with tainted hands and a sinful soul. You can't look at yourself and you're pretty sure no one else can either.

The phone is ringing. Ringing and ringing and ringing and now you're not sure if it's the phone or just the constant stream of noise that rings in your eardrums. The rapping you hear on your front door is muffled, sounding miles and miles away. You barely hear the breaking and entering of an intruder because all you can hear are the resounding blood curdling cries of the man you've murdered.

When the intruder crashes in through your bedroom door you don't even turn your head because you can't tear away your gaze from the face formed into the stucco of the man who's life you claimed.

You don't hear the screaming of your name because it doesn't compare in volume to the pleas of the man begging for his no longer existence.

You do feel however, the heavy weight straddling you and the warm, sweaty palms on your cold and pallid cheeks.

The sounds slowly work their way back in from a steadfast muted drone to clear as crystal.

"Wake up!... Wake up!... Wake up, you fucker!"

Your eyes shift, fall slowly to the intruder, the man straddling you.

"Wake up! I'm pounding on the door, I -"

"Where the hell are you when I need you?" you ask, your tongue feels thick and heavy and your speech is slow and lazy.

"What?" Gokudera stares down at you in disbelief, his silver hair cascading over his face and shoulders.

"You walked away from me when I needed you... until we see this eye to eye, I don't want you." You try to push him off you, but he's got his thighs tight against your ribs and he reaches in and fists the collar of your shirt. You can see the anger in his eyes, brighter than any dying will flame you've ever seen but behind that you can see it. Finally. You can see the hurt. 

""I... I'm not the man I was before, I won't hurt you anymore -"

"No, I don't want you. I don't want you or the mafia, or  _any_ of this! I killed someone, Gokudera. Just like you've always wanted me to... and guess what?  _It felt good!_ " you scream as he glares at you with that sad look in his eyes. It's not your intentions to make him feel guilty, but you feel like shit and misery loves company.

"I... I never wanted you to kill anyone," he says quietly. It makes you draw in a breath, the vulnerability and guilt in his tone. "I just... I just wanted you to get out. Because... because..." He sighs and he watches you and opens his mouth to say something and you hope it's what you think it is. Those three little words that he's never said back to you. The three little words that will probably make this disgusting and shameful feeling go away. But he doesn't.

"Listen, Yamamoto. The world we knew won't come back... the time we've lost can't get back. The life we had won't be ours again...."

You sigh and absently repeat those words. "This world will never be... what i expected. And if I don't belong - "

He leans in, so close you can feel his light breath brush your lips. "Yamamoto... No one is judging you. No one will ever see this side reflected, and if there's something wrong, who would have guessed it? And I have left alone everything that I own to make you feel like it's not too late. It's never too late." He pauses, he looks so  _defeated._  "Even if I say it'll be alright, still I hear you say you want to end your life... _"_ He grabs your wrist and runs his finger along the vertical scar that's puckered and fresh.

He trails off but his gaze doesn't shift, he still stares deep and you can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes that you've never noticed before. His eyes say everything his mouth never has and you want to... you just want to finally just  _believe_ that he loves you but how can you when you don't even trust your own judgment anymore?

"I fucking  _told_ you, you weren't cut out for the fucking mafia and I'm sorry that it had to come down to you actually killing someone for you to wake up. But... but when the tenth told me that you tried to kill yourself  _again_..."

You saw something shift then, in his expression, something akin to anguish and pain and sadness but you didn't have a name for it because you've never seen this emotion spread across his flawless face.

He let out a trembling breath that kind of hitched at the end. His green in his eyes turned a clear seafoam, standing out against the redness that started to fill the whites and the glossy wetness that welled in the brims of his bottom lids. Was he... was he  _crying?_

"Fuck, Yamamoto... You can't do that.  _You can't do that!"_ And something in him breaks and tears spill over his ivory cheeks and you blink. You blink several times until he lifts an arm to wipe off the tears with the back of his hand, covering his face and he silently sobs.

"Gokudera..." you whisper because you don't know what else to say. That you're sorry? But are you really? You loved the way the thrill of taking someone's life. It isn't natural, it isn't normal. You're not sure of anything anymore and you just want to fold yourself up in a little box and tuck yourself away because everything is wrong in the world. Even Gokudera. He's here, crying for you and this is what you've wanted. You've wanted him to show you a glimmer of hope and here he was, laying out what he'd allow himself to, baring it all and you just blink.

Because you're an empty shell of a man. You're dead inside, you might as well stop being a hindrance for everyone else and put yourself out of your misery. You aren't afraid of dying, that is your resolve.

_It's not resolve, it's idiocy._

Gokudera leans into you, slipping his arms behind your head and whispers against your skin, "It's never too late. Never too late to leave this place and go back to being a baseball idiot..."

You lift your long arms up and they feel like they're encased in cement and you think amusingly,  _Limbs trapped in cement..._ _How fitting of a metaphor... for the mafia._

You wrap them around the back of the smaller man and push him into you and you feel the vibration of his heart against your chest. He may be small in stature but he is larger than life and the burdens he carries are even larger and you think that all this time he's been the one shielding you from everything. He's been the one protecting  _you_  and you now understand the anger he bears when you talk so easily of throwing away your life.

"Gokudera... from the first time I saw your face, the first time we kissed, the first time we made love... it was already too late. I knew that wherever Gokudera went, I would follow. To the ends of the earth, to the depths of hell or the pearly gates of heaven, wherever you go I will follow. There is no me... without you."

You need to tell him this because it is too late, you love him. And you don't need to wake up, you can stay in this dream as long as it has him in it.

Gokudera sighs and kisses the side of your head. It's still so rare to see such affection. Even though you love him, you swear sometimes he hates you.

"Idiot... Wake up. There is no  _me_  without  _you_."


End file.
